


October 11th

by astrojune



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrojune/pseuds/astrojune
Summary: Hank mourns his son on the anniversary of his passing. Connor tries to help him.





	October 11th

Hank spins the cylinder of his revolver and then closed it with trembling hands. He cocks the hammer and points the gun to his chin. He closes his eyes and his index finger brushes the trigger many times, trembling more and more with each one.

"Come on," he says through gritted teeth, tears starting to stream down his reddened cheeks.

How hard can it be?

All he has to do is pull the goddamn trigger and everything will be over. No more nights spent drowning in alcohol to forget, to silence the thoughts in his mind and find a couple hours of apparent peace. He wouldn't be reunited with Cole, though, he has never believed that, but at least he won't have to deal with the pain of being still alive.

He won't even notice it. The bullet would probably blow his brains out before it even has the chance to process everything.

But he can't.

His finger can only brush the trigger, but no matter how hard Hank tries to pull it, he just can't.

He puts down the revolver on the floor in front of him and grabs the half-empty bottle of whiskey right next to his body. He gulps down several swigs of it, hoping to numb himself down enough to find the courage to take his own life.

He leans his head back against the kitchen cabinet and closes his eyes, giving up to the violent shudders of his body as he cries.

"I'm … sorry …" he says between his sobs. "I can't do it, Cole … I'm ... so sorry."

He takes a look at the picture next to the gun. His boy, his Cole … he'd do anything to hold him one more time. But he can't. Cole's gone, forever.

He hears some whining and he sees Sumo's blurred figure approaching. But he never makes it to him. Or, rather, he does, but Hank has already blacked out.

* * *

 

There's something soft and cool on his face. It's delicate, like a mother's touch.

He wishes he could stay like this, halfway between consciousness and oblivion, feeling this gentle caress on his tear-stained face.

Fingers run through his hair, trying to move it away from his face without pulling. And then there's that gentle touch again, this time on his forehead.

Hank manages to open his eyes. It's hard to keep them like that, though, the lighting of the kitchen is painful and his head spins, making him sick.

But then he sees them. Brown eyes. Big, painful, brown eyes watching him.

"Connor …" he says softly.

He feels something reach for his hand, only to realize it's Connor's one squeezing it lightly.

"I'm right here, Hank."

His voice his soothing. Hank squeezes Connor's hand back. It makes him feel somehow safe, as if the world suddenly became a much less sad, fucked-up place.

Why is Connor here with him? He doesn’t deserve this. He should go and enjoy his freedom with his new friends instead of wasting time trying to save Hank from himself. It’s too late for that, Hank can’t be saved: he fell too deep in darkness to be able to see a light.

“I couldn’t … I wanted to … but I couldn’t.”

"I know," he says.

There's so much sadness in his voice and it hurts him.  He has never heard Connor sound like that before and knowing it's all his fault just makes him feel guilty.

He wants to scream. He wants to push Connor away just like he did with all his other friends. It's better for him to hate him than to care: losing Connor will tear Hank apart, he knows, but that doesn't matter as long as he knows Connor will be living a better life.

But he knows he won't do it. Connor's attentions just feel so good and, selfishly, he doesn't want it to be over. God, he is so disgusting.

"Can you stand? I'll take you to the bathroom so you can get yourself cleaned up, okay? Maybe it will make you feel a bit better."

Hank nods and Connor slowly helps him getting to his feet. He is so careful, as if he's handling a frail porcelain doll. Yet, at the same time, he's strong and steady: Hank can barely stand, but Connor makes sure he doesn't fall.

He closes his eyes, hoping that it will give him some relief, but moving around just makes his dizziness worse.

They make it to the bathroom and Hank is quick to fall on his knees in front of the toilet. He grabs it as if his life depended on it, feeling the nausea getting worse. He then doubles over the toilet and throws up.

Connor kneels by his side and holds his hair, moving it away from his face so it doesn't get dirty. His other hand is gently stroking his back.

"Let it all out, it will make you feel better."

After he's done, he rests for a while against Connor's chest and the android holds him in silence until Hank reaches for the sink to wash his mouth and face.

"You need some time alone?"

Hank is tempted to say yes. Just yell at Connor to get the fuck out of his house and hurt his feelings so he will finally go away. But deep inside he wants him there, he needs his gentle caresses, his kind words.

"Stay," he whispers, voice weak and raspy. "Please."

Connor nods and Hank is pretty sure he saw a small smile forming on his lips.

"Of course."

They reach the bedroom where Connor picks some clean clothes for Hank. He lies down on his bed and Connor sits down next to him, stroking his hair.

Hank closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling, the silence that surrounds them. For a while, it's almost like everything else disappears, no more problems, no shitty world, nothing, just the two of them.

Hank feels calm now. His head is still killing him, but he really doesn't care. If he believed in a god, he would think that Connor was sent to him as his second chance at life. Part of him really wants to believe he has that second chance.

"Why did you come here?"

Connor looks away for a brief moment, as if he was ashamed of himself. Then he glances down at his hands that are now grabbing his own knees so hard that the skin on the palms is gone.

"I … I knew today was going to be hard for you. And I wanted to be by your side, to help you as much as I could. But … I also wanted to give you space … I didn't know what to do … in the end I decided to come here."

Hank stares at Connor.

Connor, who remembered the anniversary of Cole's death. Who wanted nothing more than to spend this damned day with him, just staying close to him to let him know that he was not alone.

If the android wasn't sitting right there, Hank would never believe it to be true.

He's so used to be alone, to have no one who cares about him that it all feels weird, almost wrong.

Then Hank finds himself giving Connor a weak smile and the android's eyes light up at the sight.

"Thanks, Con."

"Please, Hank, you don't have to thank me. You're the most important person in my life, this is the least I can do."

The least he can do, he says. But to Hank this means the world. Having someone who managed to see past the alcoholic man who barely shows up to work, who never judged him and who actually tried to understand him is something Hank didn't know he needed until now.

"Can you … lie down with me? I'm not sure I can sleep tonight …"

Connor doesn't say a word as he stands to take of his shoes and his jacket. He puts them neatly in a corner of Hank's bedroom and then climbs into bed next to him. He is a bit awkward as he lays on his side to face Hank, one hand under his head and the other on the blanket.

Hank shifts closer to him and hides his face in Connor's chest. There, he can hear the soft whirring of his components working to keep him functioning.

It's relaxing and Hank closes his eyes.

He feels Connor moving a little and then hears the switch of the bedside lamp being turned off.

And then, to Hank's surprise, Connor starts whispering a song while holding him.

 _Hold on just a little while longer._  
_Hold on just a little while longer._  
_Hold on just a little while longer._  
_Everything will be alright._

Slowly, lulled by Connor's soft voice singing to him, Hank falls asleep. He rests like he hasn't done in a very long time and even the usual nightmares manage to leave him alone.

He dreams of Cole. But this time there's no blood, no pain, no apologies cried out to ears that can't hear anymore. Cole is happy as he runs towards him and throws himself in his arms. Hank catches him and squeezes him tightly. He hears his son’s laugh and his own.

And as he looks up, Connor is there, smiling brightly.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, readers!  
> as you can see i'm now in dbh hell too. i love it.  
> i hope you liked this fic! please, let me know what you think of it!  
> if you noticed some mistakes it's because i'm not a native english speaker.  
> see ya!


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